


don't worry, brother dear, i'm fine

by zweebie



Series: the inaugural class of the umbrella academy [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, One Shot, Pre-Canon, TW: Suicide, i love crying :'), i think???, i'm still emo over klave, klaus met god and she called him a bitch, technically there's a major character death but..... yall know klaus, yall can decide if the ending is happy or not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 06:08:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18277349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zweebie/pseuds/zweebie
Summary: He clearly isn't fine.Klaus is giving up, but he meets a certain someone in the afterlife that gives him hope.





	don't worry, brother dear, i'm fine

**Author's Note:**

> trigger warning: suicide, (sort of) major character deaths, general pain :)

Klaus is twenty-five, and has survived rehab for the third time, which he thinks is an accomplishment, even though no one’s asking him. Sure, Allison just starred in her first blockbuster, but could she stomach three months living and sleeping across from possibly the grossest man alive?

“She did live seventeen years with me, though, which,” he says to nobody, “is probably just as terrible an ordeal.”

“You have to stop thinking like that, you know,” Ben says from behind him, scanning the shelves of the dusty convenience store. It’s after dark, but these magical little places are always open. There’s something about the flickery lights and the cloudy windows that calms Klaus, and he spends a lot of time in them.

“I’m not talking to you.” Klaus waves a hand in Ben’s direction (it passes through him) and grumbles under his breath, “I miss being alone.”

“You know I can hear everything you’re saying, right?” There’s a pause as Klaus hums to himself, running his hands across the brightly colored candy wrappers. “Seriously, Klaus, are you alright? Things’ve been bad lately. Maybe you need—”

“ _Stop_ saying I need rehab, Ben.” Ben opens his mouth again, but Klaus presses on. “Or therapy, or whatever other delightful little institutions you think will help me. That,” Klaus takes a bottle of Jack Daniels off the shelf and does a little spin, “was a problem for the old me. I’m past it.”

“You’re really not—”

“I am très magnifique, dear brother,” Klaus says, blowing a kiss. He unscrews the cap of the bottle and takes a gulp. Some of it sloshes on his shirt, which makes him giggle. “Just a little, um, clumsy, I guess.” Ben rolls his eyes. Klaus supposes Ben is used to seeing him being a mess. And it’s nice to have someone there. Sometimes, though, Klaus doesn’t need to be reminded of what a piece of shit he is.

“Excuse me, are you alright?” The cashier walks over as Klaus takes another swig. She’s old, and seems sweet. “I’m very sorry, but you can’t drink that without paying for it. I could ring it up now if you like.”

She smiles, but the edges of it are a little blurry. “Hey, I know you!” Klaus points, grinning. He’s swaying, but only a little. “From the story. With the little girl.” He pulls his coat up around his head like a hood, and says in a pitiful voice, “What white hair you have, granny!”

“You really don’t remember that story right,” Ben says, leaning against the refrigerator behind Klaus. Klaus snarls at him.

The old lady looks frightened, or maybe just amused. Amused is much easier for Klaus to deal with, so he laughs again.

He’s really drunk now. “Just from two sips?” Klaus looks down at the bottle, eyebrows knitting.

“Wait for it,” Ben mutters, and Klaus remembers.

“Oh _yeah,”_ Klaus lets out another laugh. There’d been much more than two sips. He’d already gotten kicked out of a bar for trying to climb over the counter to get the other bottles. There’d been so many—they’d lined the entire wall. Why wouldn’t they let him take any of them?

This is all quite funny, until the old lady speaks up again.

“Sir, I must ask you to put that bottle down at once or I’ll have to call security.”

“Klaus, put it down,” Ben says.

“Oh you sound like Luther,” Klaus spits at him.

“Sir!”

Klaus sighs, and reaches to tip an imaginary hat. “Well, if you insist, then I guess this is goodbye, madame.” He keeps the bottle in his hand.

“Sir, I must insist you put the bottle down!” The lady looks a little overwhelmed, but Klaus is too far gone to care.

Instead of doing what she says, he cries “Adieu!” and scurries around her and towards the door.

“Klaus, don’t take the bottle _with you!_ ” Ben makes a frustrated noise and pushes off the fridge after him.

“Security!” Klaus hears, and he turns to see a uniformed man scrambling out of a car.

Klaus turns helplessly to the lady in the doorway. “Seriously? I thought we were getting on so well!” But the security guard is coming towards him, and the baton he’s holding looks mighty dangerous, so Klaus turns and scrambles away.

Klaus loves this feeling—the city wind whistling past, orange light spilling out of the streetlamps over everything. He and ben are sprinting wildly down the sidewalk, laughing giddily, leaping over trash cans, cursing occasionally at the cars that have the _audacity_ to nearly run them over. The security guard loses them quickly enough, which could either be due to their expert evasion skills or to the half-full bottle of brandy Klaus had launched at him. Long distance throwing had never been Klaus’s thing, but for those few seconds, he was blessed with some of Diego’s powers and it connected. Needless to say, the guard gave up. The loss of liquor is a shame, but there is a little baggie of pills in Klaus’s jacket pocket to console him.

Klaus is constantly being given shit for the drug thing, by Ben, Diego, Vanya, or the people at rehab. Even Allison, when she deigns to turn up. But a world without them sounds impossible to him. The nightmares haven’t stopped, but at least they don’t follow him into waking hours anymore. The ghosts are still there, but they keep enough distance that he can’t hear their screams. Sure, the drugs have ruined. . .other things, but it’s worth his freedom from the dead.

Well. They ruin a lot of things.

Klaus stumbles to a stop, then turns and lurches into an alley to throw up. Ben’s sitting on the fire escape already. Of course he’s there, because he always is. It’d be nice to be alone once in a while. _(He’s repeating himself. He knows this. But even though he’s definitely gone over the legal drinking limit, he knows the buzz is going to wear off way too soon.)_

“You know, it’d be nice to be alone once in a while,” Klaus says airily, spinning and leaning back on the trash can (the unfortunate victim of Klaus’s alcohol poisoning). “Not that I don’t enjoy your. . .” he flails for a moment, unsure how to finish, “comforting presence, but a fellow needs some solitude.”

Ben doesn’t answer, and Klaus slides to the ground, pulling out his little plastic bag of numbness and turning it over in his hands. There’s another moment of silence, and then Klaus says “The economy’s going to shit, huh?” even though he knows nothing about the economy.

“Klaus, do you want to talk about it?” Ben, apparently, isn’t falling for Klaus’s clever political ruse. Shocking. (Are politics part of the economy? Klaus doesn’t know.)

“No, no, no, let me be educated for one second. The president—”

“Klaus.”

“—he’s a real shitface, isn’t he—”

“Klaus.”

“—or maybe he’s wonderful! Doesn’t make a difference to me.” He laughs a single _ha,_ and fiddles with his bag of happy pills.

“ _Klaus.”_

“But you know what’s really wrong with this country? This wonderful little pills, they, they just don’t work like they used to.”

“ _Klaus.”_

“The drug industry, it’s what’s really going to the dogs.”

“Klaus, there’s this thing called tolerance—”

“Yes, yes, yes, yes, I know—I know what it means. _Christ!_ ” Klaus yells, kicking a rock across the alley. It hits the wall with an unsatisfying _crack._ “I hate this so much.”

“Klaus, is this about—”

“Oh, the breakup? No, no, I—I love being dumped. Does wonders for the complexion. No, no, no. The real thing is that, is that I’d brought some bread home, so we could have it with dinner.” Klaus’s voice cracks a little on the last word, and he wipes away a tear hastily. “We were going to have chilli.” Another watery laugh. “But get this—I dropped it! In a fucking puddle. Klaus Hargreeves, everyone. Can’t even get a loaf of bread to his boyfriend’s—sorry, _ex-_ boyfriend’s—house without fucking up.” _Ha. Ha._

Klaus holds up the little clear bag in front of his eyes. How many of the little miracle pills were in there? Ten? Twenty?

Klaus wipes the tears hastily away, and when he opens his eyes, Ben is sitting across from him, cross-legged. “Klaus, I don’t know if you loved him—”

“See, that’s the funny part. You see—I didn’t love him. I’ve never. . .loved anyone. And I’m sure as hell no one’s ever loved me.” The words are coming slowly now. The tears are rising and he feels that if he speeds up, they'll overflow. “Now isn’t that just the most hilarious thing you’ve ever heard?”

“What is this about, Klaus? If it’s about Dad, I mean, he was a shithead. And none of us are okay.”

“What a truly profound revelation, Ben.” Klaus turns the bag over in his hands one more time. What could ten little blue pills do? Twenty?

“Do you,” Ben hesitates. He’s never been completely comfortable talking about feelings. And it’s clear Klaus is crying now, which Klaus knows is got to be scaring Ben a bit. “...want to talk about it?”

Klaus unzips the little baggie. There’s a man crawling into the alley. He’s babbling in German, blood bubbling from his lips. “Really?” Klaus whines, looking over at him. “Give me a moment, just a moment, of peace.” The ghosts are persistent lately. Or maybe he just needs another drink.

Maybe he needs a pill, or fifteen.

Klaus pours the contents of the baggie into the palm of his hands and studies them, and finally Ben realises what’s going on. “Klaus, no!” he cries, and dives forward. He grabs at the pills in Klaus’s hands, but he just passes through them.

Klaus grins weakly, then pouts. “Poor dear Benny boy, just a shadow.” Ben looks up at him, horror-stricken. “No, no, I’m fine. I’m fine! Don’t worry, brother dear,” he says, even though he’s clearly not fine. The only thing he hates about this is that Ben has to watch.

“Klaus, no. This isn’t—this isn’t the answer.” Klaus looks up at Ben, and is surprised to see tears.

He looks away. “Oh, shut up. You sound like my therapist.”

“You don’t go to therapy, Klaus,” Ben says, and then, running his hands through his hair, “I—I don’t know what to say. You’ve been through shit, I—but we’ve _all_ been through shit—”

Klaus explodes. “I don’t care, okay? What if—what if I don’t care?” He kicks another rock, stomping on the ground like a child throwing a tantrum. But wasn’t that what they all were? The umbrella academy? Just children, still desperately trying to be normal, be happy, even though they were far too late for that. Still, he’s heard this so many times. _This is because of what you went through as a child, Klaus. You and your siblings need to get over this together, Klaus. There’s a reason you’re feeling this way, Klaus._ “What if I don’t—what if I don’t care that we’ve all been through shit? What if I don’t care that there’s a reason? What if I just want to be happy now? Shouldn’t that be okay?”

“But this—these—they aren’t going to make you happy. They’re—they’re just nothing! Is that what you want?”

“Maybe nothing is better. Maybe nothing is better sometimes!” Klaus’s voice is high, pathetic.

Ben doesn’t prod, but Klaus knows he knows what he’s talking about. The years of torture. The mausoleum. Never actually having a family.

What Ben doesn’t understand is what it’s like to be Klaus. What it’s like to be the Seance. What it’s like to have voices in your ear constantly. Mothers screaming for their children. Soldiers waiting for their families. Children, who didn’t even know what death was before they were taken by it, crying to go home. The drugs used to help, but each hit is weaker, and Klaus doesn’t know how much longer he can go on like this.

Correction: He can’t go on any longer like this.

The german man starts up again with his blubbering. _“Hilf. . .mir,”_ he cries, reaching out from the corner he’s collapsed in. “Bitte. . .hilf mir.”

“I can’t! Help you!” Klaus roars, tearing his hands from his hair. The german man’s voice escalates into wails, and Klaus covers his head with his hands, whimpering. “No, no, no, no, no.” Ben is saying something, but Klaus can’t hear over the man’s pleas. And there’s a girl now, too, terrified, covering her eyes and screaming, and Klaus doesn’t know if he wants to crawl over and comfort her or if he wants to scream at them all to shut up, or if he just wants to make them go away forever, and suddenly he’s opening the bag with shaking fingers and Ben is yelling and there’s oh so much screaming and Klaus is throwing his head back and squeezing his eyes shut and—

Silence. Blessed, blessed, silence.

Klaus opens his eyes and they’re gone. The girl, the german man. Even Ben. Gone. The drugs have never driven Ben away, but, well, Klaus hasn’t ever taken this many. For a reason.

Klaus is alone in a dark alley, and he’s so, so tired.

And he knows he should be sad, regretful of all the highs and lows of life he’ll miss (now _he_ sounds like his therapist) but all Klaus feels when his eyes close is relief.

* * * * *

Klaus is in a forest, and there’s a well-beaten (and noticeably empty) path curling through it. No ghosts, so he can’t be sober, and there’s definitely a _lightness_ to his thoughts, but it doesn’t feel like he’s drunk. Or high. He takes a slow turn, surveying the trees. He doesn’t recognize them—they’re all thinner, taller, than what he’s seen, and the underbrush is thick and wet.

It’s not exactly what he’d expected.

He turns to see a little girl walking down the path towards him. “Oh, hello,” he says, grinning a little. There’s something just slightly familiar about her, like he met her while he was blackout drunk and woke up with no memory of it.

“Oh, it’s you. The thief,” she says, but there’s nothing accusatory about it. Nothing kind, either.

Klaus puts a hand to his chest in mock offence. “Thief? Me? I—”

She cuts him off. “I can’t even walk out here with all the racket you’re making.”

“But I—I haven’t—” Klaus opens and shuts his mouth like a goldfish, and then grabs hold of a different line altogether. “I’m sorry, but am I, um, am I in Hell?”

“What’s hell?” It sounds like the girl’s trying the word out for the first time.

“I. . .” Klaus says, but he finds he doesn’t know how to finish. “don’t know. I, uh, ‘m not really into all of that stuff anyway. Could you just tell me where I am, please?”

“Where do you think?”

“I don’t know, I—I’ve never been dead before, okay?” Or not permanently. There’s a hint of a whine in his voice, but Klaus, well. Klaus had hoped he wouldn’t have to do anything difficult anymore, and this is the definition of difficult.

The girl scoffs. “What,” Klaus asks, “does that mean?”

“Nothing you would understand. There is something for you to do, though.”

Klaus rubs his hands over his face and groans. “Can’t you just, like, take me to wherever I get the eternal peace? That’s kind of what I’m here for.”

“You clearly don’t understand. You can’t stay. But there is someone who’s been waiting for you.”

“Waiting for me? Who—” The girls points over his shoulder, and there’s a man standing a little farther along the path. He’s clearly been waiting for Klaus to turn around.

And, oh my.

He’s stunning.

It’s not his face, or his build, per _se,_ though the latter isn’t what Klaus would call slight. It’s the smile. The man is so, so gloriously happy, and Klaus doesn’t know why, but something about the smile draws him in.

“Klaus. Oh my god, Klaus.” There’s a moment where Klaus is laughing, and he’s not sure what’s going on, but then the man cups his face and folds him into a hug. Then Klaus is just confused. He doesn’t pull out of the embrace, but he tenses, and the man lets him go. “What happened?” He’s still grinning like a teenager in love.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, but—” Klaus says, staring at him. He doesn’t know what to do.

“Your goatee, you shaved it,” the man says, eyes dancing, tracing a thumb across Klaus’s chin.

“Yeah, um, I’m not sure. . .” And Klaus is terrified now, because the man is beaming and Klaus doesn’t want to be the one who takes that away from him. But Klaus doesn’t know what _this_ is, and by god, can’t things just be easy for a moment?

“Oh,” the little girl says behind him, and Klaus turns. The man has one hand on Klaus’s shoulder, and he leaves it there even when Klaus takes a step away. There are so many things he doesn’t understand here. “I’m sorry,” she says, looking up at them, deadpan, like she’s merely taking their order, “I’ve made a mistake with the timeline. It’s just a few years. Easy to mix up.”

“A—” the man says, and Klaus turns to see him looking between Klaus and the girl, looking like there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to rewind the last twenty seconds. “A mistake? What do you—”

“It’s a small matter, easy to fix. And you, the thief,” she looks at Klaus, “you couldn’t stay anyway.”

“He—he can’t stay? No, you can’t be serious. I’ve been—I’ve been waiting for—”

“I’m terribly sorry, but like I said, it’s only a matter of a few years.”

And then the world around Klaus begins to blur, and he realizes just a moment too late what is happening. “No, no, no, no, no, you can’t send me back,” he cries, trying to grab the girl by the shoulders. He can’t go back, he _can’t_ go back. But she’s slipping away, “no, no, please!” and it’s all slipping away, and god _dammit_ he tried so hard. He tried so hard.

* * * * *

Klaus gasps awake, sitting up straight and immediately regretting it. “Oh, christ on a cracker, my back,” he groans.

“What the fuck was that, Klaus?” Ben cries. Klaus is still (and by how stiff he is, has been for some time) in the same alley. He takes a quick inventory—his hands are still there, as are his feet. His clothes are still on. Everything is the same as it was when he—

Well. When he killed. . .himself. But he’s alive. That’s a whole other box of craziness that he doesn’t want to open right now.

“Klaus, look at me! What the hell—”

But Klaus pushes past him, mumbling “no, no, no, more important things, can’t think. . .” He stumbles over the wall, and leans his shoulder against it.

His memories are a jumbled mess, so he only examines the one he’s sure of.

There had been a man. Who he was, where he was, why he knew Klaus, Klaus didn’t know. Klaus couldn’t even quite remember how exactly he’d seen him. He remembered swallowing the pills, the exhaustion, and then. . .nothing except for this man.

But there was a man, and he’d loved Klaus. Klaus pushes all the hows, the whys away for just one second. This man had loved him.

. . . _okay._

Klaus hadn’t really been paying attention at the time (hell, he hadn’t really been paying attention his whole life) but he did remember his dad and Five arguing about time travel constantly, even on the day that Five disappeared. He’d replayed that lunchtime conversation hundreds, thousands of times in the years since, for a different reason altogether, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that time travel was possible.

Klaus saw this man, which means he was probably a ghost. Which means that he’d died already—before Klaus even met him. That Klaus knows. But what if something had happened? What if the man and Klaus met at some later date in Klaus’s life, and they’d had some sort of. . .relationship, and then the man had travelled back somehow, dying in the past? Klaus had always believed Five was the only one who even had the remote ability to time travel, but Reginald had seemed to know plenty about the process of travelling through time. And how could Reginald have learned all of that if there weren’t other time travellers out there?

But what did this _mean?_

“Klaus!” Ben yells, probably not for the first time. He’s standing behind Klaus, and Klaus can't see his face, but he’s clearly furious.

“Ben, dear,” Klaus says, turning slowly to face him, “How would I look with a goatee?”

* * * * *

Five years later, Klaus opens his eyes in an army camp in nineteen-sixty-eight. In front of him is a man he’s sure he’s seen before.

And oh, my.

He’s stunning.

**Author's Note:**

> because I SWEAR there’s something telling about klaus’s expression when he first sees Dave. thank you so much for reading!!! i did minorly cry writing this, which is always SO fun... 
> 
> please comment if you like it!


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